


consonants are indivisible

by Azzandra



Series: Traverse [4]
Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:30:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzandra/pseuds/Azzandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave meets Terezi. Terezi meets Dave. Karkat is also there, but he already knows the people in question, so he's not really meeting anyone new.</p><p>(Sequel to <i>a lively mating jig</i>. You might want to read that one first.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While it is preferable you read [a lively mating jig](http://archiveofourown.org/works/781149) before tackling this fic, you might also (optionally) want to take a look at [season to taste](http://archiveofourown.org/works/851946), which precedes this story in the series. 
> 
> Also, some of you might recognize the first part of this chapter as the bit I [posted on my blog](http://azzandra.tumblr.com/post/55526201175/here-it-is-like-i-said-preview-for-the-sequel-to) a few days ago.
> 
> So, enjoy.

Two things you discovered today.

One: a type of nut is commonly grown on Traverse that is both edible and delicious to most species. It doesn't grow in the soil of the planet, which is too acidic and at any rate mostly covered with buildings, but in flowerpots and communal roof gardens, usually hidden under other plants because (and you actually didn't believe this part until you saw it with your own eyes) roaming bands of nut thieves are a common occurrence.

And two: every single one of that nut's kernels, when thrown, skews left.

Or maybe Karkat has terrible aim. Either way, you manage to catch in your mouth five kernels in a row, even with Karkat's increasingly angry and sloppy throws.

As your teeth click closed around the last little kernel, Karkat scoffs.

“Five,” you say, relieved that at least this Alternian word doesn't have any weird clicks or hums or interpretive dance parts. You barely screw up the pronunciation at all. “Your turn.”

Karkat acquiesces and opens his mouth. He gets an intense look on his face, and you can already tell he's going to make some hyper-competitive _thing_ out of this. And then he's going to lose anyway because he's too high-strung.

You pick up five nuts from a bowl (and man, for something so tasty, these are some ugly motherfuckers, all weird greenish-brown and wrinkly, like soaked pistachios) and prepare yourself.

You try to recall the word for 'ready' in Alternian, but it eludes you right now.

“Yes?” you ask instead.

“Yes, yes,” Karkat hisses in English, and opens his mouth wide again.

You throw the first kernel. It arches elegantly through the air, narrowly misses the kitchen ceiling, makes it across the table, reaches Karkat—and then bounces off his forehead.

“Come on, dude, what the hell, you had your eyes closed,” you snort.

“No English!” Karkat snaps, and you belatedly realize you indeed lapsed into English.

You sigh and prepare for the next toss. Karkat manages to keep his eyes open for this one, but the kernel hits his cheek instead. The next one almost gets in his mouth, but hits his teeth instead. The last two tries aren't a rousing success either.

“Five zero,” you say. “I win.”

“You throwed bad,” Karkat grumbles.

“Threw,” you correct.

He stares at you.

“Bullshit,” he says, and you silently commend him for intuitively knowing the correct use of that word.

“Threw. You threw it badly. Or you throw badly. It depends on what you were trying to say, but yeah, believe it or not, 'threw' is still a real word. Threw. Man, it sounds weird as fuck. Threw. Threwwwww.” Okay, you've said it too many times, it's lost its meaning.

“You threw bad,” Karkat repeats.

“Threw badly.”

“Threw badly.”

“'You threw badly'.”

“You threw badly,” Karkat repeats again, this time more impatient. “The worst. Your threws are the worst.”

“My _throws_ are the worst,” you correct.

“My throws are the worst.”

“Sure are, dude.”

Karkat scowls.

“No, _your_ ,” he says.

“Uh-huh.”

He bares his teeth at you. Then he pulls the bowl of nuts on the table closer and puts an arm around it protectively. He takes a whole handful and stuffs it in his mouth.

“Mine,” he says.

“But I won,” you say, switching back to Alternian. He dislikes it when you stretch the language lessons for too long just so you have an excuse to talk in English.

“Your throws are the worst,” Karkat recites, and stuffs another handful of nuts in his mouth.

*

To your surprise, it actually took very little effort to adapt to Karkat's schedule. Partly because your biological clock was already fucked by the time you got to Traverse. Another part of it might have been that you were already used to staying up all night, turning in long after dawn, and not crawling out of bed until well into the afternoon.

Either way, after Rose left, you really had no reason to stay at the hotel anymore. All it was doing was eating up your money. And if Rose could move in with her platonic mental health aid boyfriend, you could shack up with Karkat just as easily.

But hey, who needs Rose? Not you. You are doing great. Everything's terrific. Karkat's battered old couch is a fucking dream. His tiny cramped apartment is the shit. The whole building's busted ventilation system is not only the bee's knees, but also the stinger part that gets ripped out of the bee's body after it stabs some unlucky bastard.

Yeah...

There's really only one drawback to your move here, and it's that you could be macking on Karkat right at this very moment but you aren't.

He's in reviewer mode, watching some shitty romcom on his husktop and furiously jotting things down on a notepad. Your Alternian might not be that great, but you still try reading through Karkat's site once in a while, with the aid of an online dictionary and a translation app. You know he can churn out truly massive volumes of vitriol towards the movies he reviews, and even if a third of the word count in any single one of his reviews seems to be taken up by scatological metaphors and references to esoteric alien bodily functions, it's still pretty impressive.

You flop down on the couch with your phone. There's Karkat's desk and chair, a wardrobe, a small book case and a recuperacoon, but the couch is the only piece of furniture in the entire apartment that actually doubles as a guest room. You guess it's called something different in Alternian (cushioned ass-parking platform or something), but even in Alternian, you use the fancy word for it, and that word, as far as you are concerned, is couch. From this vantage point, you can see over Karkat's shoulder, and the movie playing on screen doesn't really hold your attention. It's one of those weird ones that seamlessly blend fluffy scenes of domesticity with graphic instances of gore, and they always give you cultural whiplash.

So you end up half-heartedly surfing the net. Traverse has a variety of local sites, usually in multiple languages, but nothing really interests you outside Karkat's site, so you switch over to the spacenet. Your phone takes forever to sync up, and when it does, you're automatically signed into Pesterchum because you forgot to log off when you closed it last time.

To your misfortune, you are noticed.

 

TT: So, the prodigal son logs on.

TG: yeah shit what are you gonna do now

TG: throw a feast chop up a veal make a parable outta my ass

TT: Ideally I first determine this is really you. It has been over a month since you fell out of contact, after all. Any number of things could have happened in the meantime.

TT: For all I know Dave was devoured by an alien crocodile monster and what I assume to be his replies might be but random button mashes as it lazily chews on his remains.

TT: It can be so terribly hard to tell at times.

TG: seriously bro id rather have the feast

TT: And your mother would rather get to see and talk to her precious babies.

TG: she didnt actually use those words

TT: No. The words she actually used were “preshus babbus”. Read as written.

TG: its like youre TRYING to induce a guilt aneurysm

TG: you want me to admit i vastly overestimated my cheeky dame wrangling skills dont you

TG: man if i had any of those dont you think id rather be over there picking mom up from what i assume is her comically large pile of empty booze bottles

TT: I wouldn't think so, no. Mostly because your sister has very helpfully filled us in on the reason you've been so scarce lately.

TG: yeah i bet shes been helpful

TG: dont have to outrun the bear just have to outrun me

TG: no goddamn loyalty to the guy she shared a womb with

TT: It seems like you are trying to shift the blame. Is that what you're doing, Dave?

TG: what im doing is coming dangerously close to accidentally dropping this phone out a window

TG: and then going down and stomping on it a bit

TG: maybe run a steamroller over it

TG: shit do aliens even have steamrollers

TG: probably not they probably use some bigass dinosaur lookin leviathan to stomp all the streets in place

TG: or maybe like alien saliva

TG: yeah thats it they probably use alien saliva to get the roads all smooth

TG: that sounds like an appropriately alien thing

TT: Dave, please rein in your bizarre xenobigotry-laden ruminations long enough to answer a simple question.

TT: Will you be staying on Traverse?

TG: can i answer that question later

TT: No.

TG: ask the audience

TG: call a friend

TG: 50/50

TG: hit my head and get a convenient bout of amnesia

TT: No.

TG: no to all of them or no just to the last one

TT: It's a simple question. Don't you find it odd you can't answer it?

TG: man no

TG: i dont find it odd because you just sprung it on me outta nowhere

TG: why would you even assume i wanna stay here permanently

TG: that's not a question you need to be asking a guy

TT: Then why can't you answer it with a simple yes or no?

TG: cuz its a stupid question and im gonna log off now

TT: I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Dave.

TG: wait

TG: hold on just a minute there

TG: HAL WHAT THE FUCK

TG: i thought i was talking to bro

TG: i was having more goddamn hot flashes than a menopausal fire eater

TT: My apologies. However, do keep in mind that at no point did you ask if I was in fact Dirk.

TG: yeah haha how ridiculous of me to assume that the person using bros handle was actually bro and not his sixth grade science project

TT: To be honest, yes, at this point it really is.

TT: How many times has this happened before? You have an atrocious memory, Dave.

TG: yeah

TG: yeah my memorys so awful

TG: in fact

TG: i just completely forgot your question

TG: im sure it wasnt important anyway

TG: say hi to mom for me

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] has gone offline! --

Then you do the mature thing and shove the phone between the couch cushions. You're so busy congratulating yourself for your problem-solving skills, that you don't even notice that you're muttering to yourself. Karkat notices, though, because he pauses his movie and turns to look at you.

You grimace a bit—just how much of that did he understand?—but every single word of Alternian you managed to painstakingly squeeze into your head this past month is eluding you at the moment, so you just wave him off.

“Nothing to see here, move along,” you mutter.

Karkat scowls at you, and you half-expect him to snap “no English!”, as is his habit lately (you'd take to yelling “no Alternian!” at him in retribution, but he somehow manages to never break the rules) but instead he gets up and comes towards you.

“Move,” he says, gesturing at you to make room for him. You don't know how he does it, but whenever it comes down to ordering you around, he always seems to know the exact words he needs.

You move over and he drapes himself over half your body, aggressively locking you into a full-body cuddle. You admire his dedication to the ancient art of canoodling, but he's actually pretty heavy (like a lot heavy; like you're not completely sure he isn't rocking an adamantium skeleton heavy), and you are additionally trapped against the couch backrest.

“Karkat--” you begin, but he shushes you and pats your mouth. “Uh, dude...”

He puts his arm back around your torso and nuzzles your neck. He does that weird thing with his mouth, not really kissing, not really biting, that somehow signifies affection for trolls (probably in the same 'hey look, I didn't rip your throat out, that means I really like you' way that all troll affection manifests). It's kind of cute, like a baby chewing on a security blanket. You don't really mind it. It's all part of the special deluxe alien boyfriend package.

He starts purring at one point, which you mind even less, because with him pressed against you like this, it feels like getting a full body massage. You never found cat purring particularly soothing, and cats at least don't sound like a rusty chain-smoking chainsaw trying to yodel, but this is somehow different. Probably alien pheromones or mind control or something. Yeah, that must be it. There's no other explanation.

You sit there for a long time, and you think maybe you drift off at some point, maybe several times, but the purring, as soothing as it is, keeps waking you up. Time dilates into a long formless stretch of warmth and comfort.

This makes it even more jarring when there is a thunderous knock on the door.

Karkat is so startled, he falls off the couch. He looks around, bristling, confused, as if expecting attackers to jump out from behind the furniture. You guess he might have fallen asleep too, or been lulled into the same hazy cuddle-stupor as you. He blinks slowly.

Welp. That didn't last long.

The knock comes again. It's unbearably loud and forceful, and you're thankful that your sword is behind the entrance door when you go to answer.

You open the door and look up. There's a brief moment of confusion as you regard the troll at the door and the troll regards you. For a moment, you both seem equally confused by each other.

Something about the troll's clothing is vaguely familiar to you. You're sure it must be a uniform, though the red shades can't possibly be part of it. As you ponder this, the troll leans in (leans down, more like, because they're at least a head taller than you) and inhales deeply, their nostrils flaring creepily.

But if you thought that part was creepy, it's nothing compared to the wide, toothy grin the troll offers you.

“Terezi?” Karkat says, and when you turn around, he looks gobsmacked.

You think maybe it's a name and not some Alternian word you don't recognize, because in the next moment, the troll turns their grin on Karkat.

“Hello, Karkat,” the troll greets in a gravelly but cheerful voice.


	2. Chapter 2

She introduces herself as Terezi Pyrope. Not right away, though.

First she gives herself a tour of the tiny apartment. Karkat yells and flails so much, that you expect him to eject this newcomer from his home immediately, but instead, he simply allows her entry and loudly suffers through her inspection of the main room, her poking around the bathroom, her tapping her cane through the hallway and finally sitting down at the kitchen table, in the one good chair, leaving Karkat in the crappy one, and you standing in the doorway like misplaced luggage.

It all passes like a fever dream, the surreality of the experience only enhanced by the fact that they speak rapid-fire Alternian which you only sort of understand if you take a few seconds to painstakingly identify the words you can recognize.

Some time after you reach the kitchen and she has makes herself comfortable, she turns to you.

“Hello,” she says in English, grinning like a friendly neighborhood shark. “We were just talking about you.”

It takes you a moment to react, and when you do, you simply stare quietly for a moment longer. The way she speaks English sounds blunt and utilitarian, but technically correct.

“Uh-huh,” you say eventually, staying completely stoic and unflappable. Her grin widens a bit.

“Oh my,” she says, fanning herself. “You're quite the charmer! I am charmed. I know now what Karkat sees in you.”

You think she's mocking you for a moment, the way she grins, but you hear the squeak of Karkat's chair as he leans forward and regards you both with intensity, and you see that sly little quirk at the corner of her mouth, and it feels instead like you're in on this joke.

“That and my impeccable taste in stylish eyewear,” you deadpan.

She cackles. Karkat scowls, but he looks unsure. He probably didn't understand that exchange fully; he still knows it was aimed at him.

It's at this point she introduces herself and gleefully informs you that she is an agent of the Alternian Empire.

“I am a legislacerator,” she says, trying for gravitas and achieving only a sort of giddy pride.

You raise an eyebrow, because you're pretty sure the Alternian Empire doesn't even acknowledge Traverse's existence.

“Do you not know what a legislacerator is?” she asks with a frown. “I suppose you wouldn't. Think of it as one of your human police officers! Except we are empowered to execute unruly detainees.”

“Yeah, so exactly like a human police officer,” you snort. “That why you're here? Did Karkat give a bad review to the Condesce's favorite romcom?”

“No, of course not,” she replies. “Well, I mean yes, he did do that thing, but that's not why I'm here.”

She takes off her shades, folds them, and puts them down on the table. Her eyes are an even red all over. Your eyes slide over to the white cane leaning against the edge of the table.

Okay, she might not be blind, she might just have some completely unrelated eye condition. Her cane has a tacky dragon-shaped handle, for god's sake.

She proceeds to ignore you and turn to Karkat. Her voice lowers a bit, becomes softer. You think she says 'I see you've been doing well for yourself', which is a phrase you recognize because of a subbed romcom Karkat once strong-armed you into watching with him.

They chat for a little while longer. You don't try to keep track of their conversation because you don't think it's worth the headache, but at one point they both turn to look at you, Terezi with a wide grin and Karkat with a deer in the headlights expression.

You try to remain quiet, but their stares are unnerving you.

“What?” you ask, and maybe your voice sounds a little squeaky, but that has nothing to do with you being nervous. Probably just a wandering helium cloud passing through.

“I just asked if I could borrow you for a couple of hours,” Terezi says.

Karkat seems apologetic now. It's a strange look on him. You're not sure you like it.

“Don't worry, I'll bring you back!” Terezi says, cheerful and completely ignoring your discomfort. “And all in one piece, if you insist on it!”

“Yeah, I insist,” you reply. “What's Karkat got to say about this?”

“Run,” Karkat grouses in English.

“Wow. Yeah, that really inspires a lot of confidence,” you say.

Terezi cackles.

You look at Karkat, who looks right back. He's expecting an answer from you, which means there's probably no immediate danger to you going with Terezi, because if there were, he'd be opposed to this.

You think. He wouldn't let you go, would he?

Nah. Last week you accidentally dropped a cookie on the floor and when you quickly picked it up and tried to eat it, he flipped his shit and made you throw it away. He wasn't very receptive to your stumbling explanation of the six seconds rule. You don't think Terezi could explain her way into putting you in a dangerous situation.

“Yeah, sure, what the heck,” you say with a shrug. “Let's paint the town red.”

“What a delicious proposition!” She claps her hand together, delighted. “Dave, I already dislike you less!”

“Whoa, hold on, what's all this about disliking me at all? You said I was a charmer.”

“And there's nothing I find more suspect than a charmer, Mr. Strider,” she replies. This time when she grins, it looks more than a little predatory.

*

When Terezi leaves, you're almost expecting to go with her. But she turns to you, says goodbye, and promises to call when she needs you.

Then she gives Karkat a bone-crunching hug and departs.

Karkat grumbles to himself, rubbing his sore upper arms. Then he sighs deeply and clings to you, hiding his face against your shoulder.

“Don't argue Terezi,” he says, words muffled.

“Don't argue _with_ Terezi, you mean?”

He looks up at you.

“Don't--” he says, and mimics a punch to your arm.

“Don't fight with her?”

“Yes! No! Don't word-fight with her.”

“So don't argue with her. Isn't that what I said from the start?”

He rolls his eyes at you.

“Don't!” he repeats once more.

“Okay. Why not?”

“Because she win!”

“I dunno, man, I think I could wear her down eventually. You know how much stamina I've got.”

Karkat snorts a laugh.

“And no English!”

“Okay, okay,” you placate him in Alternian.

Karkat nods, satisfied. He looks so serious that you can't resist kissing his nose. He's outraged by your gall. You end up having an impromptu angry necking session on the floor in front of the door.

*

Two days later, when you've mostly forgotten about Terezi and the favor she asked from you, she drops in again.

“Remember me, Dave?” she asks as she strolls in the kitchen

You're in the process of raiding the cupboards for the last of the human-edible cereal before Karkat beats you to it, so you don't stop as she pulls up a chair and sits down.

“Nah, we got weird troll government lackeys traipsing through this place all the time,” you reply. “Like a regular parade of clashing uniforms and suspiciously evil cackling. The neighbors are starting to complain about the sound of jackboots.”

“Dave, I will have you know my jackboots are very dainty!”

“So you're using your cane to compensate?”

She's hitting her cane against the floor impatiently, but she stops the moment you point it out.

“I will remind you that last time I was here, you agreed to aid me in certain matters of interest to the Empire when I needed your help.”

“Can this wait after breakfast?” you ask. Okay, technically it's evening, but any meal you take after waking up is breakfast, and that is doubly true when you live with someone who is nocturnal.

“What if I told you that breakfast is a vital part of this errand?”

“Then I'm obligated to ask if that means I'll be the one getting eaten for breakfast,” you reply. But your interest is already piqued. You could really go for something that isn't stale cereal.

“No, but we will have to walk into an establishment and order food.”

“What's the catch?”

“I think their seafood is inadequately cooked for human consumption.”

“And the waiters explode if they don't get tipped?”

“I do not understand this human concept of rewarding service employees for performing the tasks they were specifically hired to do in the first place.”

“Yeah, well, I don't understand this concept of spreading your own babies on bread like gore jam and consuming them, but I don't grab you by the shoulders and scream in your face 'grubsauce is people!' over and over, either.”

“That would be absurd. Grubs are not people.”

“And waiters aren't grubs. Hence why we tip them instead of turning them into paste.”

“Dave, you have some very odd notions,” she says.

“Right. _I'm_ the one with the odd notions. Gotcha.”

“Am I to understand you don't want me to treat you to breakfast?”

“You're to understand I'm not opposed to a cruelty-free meal that you're paying for.”

*

You're surprised to discover that you will be taking a scuttlebuggy to wherever Terezi means to take you.

“It's a rental, of course,” she explains. “Mine doesn't have that inconvenient windshield.”

“You like the feel of the wind in your hair and bugs in your mouth?” you ask.

“Yes, I do enjoy the occasional surprise snack while driving,” she replies, and you're pretty sure she's not even the least bit joking.

The scuttlebuggy is a two-seater, and its legs are shorter and twitchier than some of the models you've seen, and there's also the fact that Terezi sticks her head out the driver side window and spends the entire ride with her tongue lolling out, like a dog on a car ride. This all adds up to possibly the most harrowing fifteen minutes of your life.

You arrive in one of the mixed commercial areas of Traverse, and she leads you towards an yvrain diner.

Before you enter the diner, you take a careful look at the sign outside. It informs you of the special of the day (edible to humans), the currency they accept and their inclusive customer policy.

The customer policy is something you learned about first thing after arriving to Traverse. There's a sign some establishments have, a bright, obviously-placed symbol, usually right next to the name, making it clear to patrons if aliens are welcome inside. Modified versions of the symbol also make it clear if aliens are welcome under certain conditions, usually accompanied by someone of the appropriate species.

You don't find anything to indicate that going in would be a bad idea, and you feel a twinge of guilt at suspecting Terezi of...

Yeah, you actually have no idea what you were suspecting her of. Being a fuckin' weirdo, mostly.

The diner is busy, but not completely full. Mostly yvrains, but you spot several other varieties of aliens and you don't draw any odd looks, so you take that as an encouraging sign.

You slide into a booth by the window. The menu, printed on the table in three different languages, makes your stomach growl. When you touch the name of each dish, you get a psychic impression detailing the ingredients and the taste, and okay, yeah, that's freaky, you don't need that amount of detail projected directly into your mind. You don't need any amount of detail projected into your mind. You almost forgot for a second there that this diner is yvrain.

Terezi's brow furrows as her fingers trace the menu items. Her mouth gapes open a few times and you can see her tongue roll against the roof of her mouth like she's trying to place the flavor of something.

“This menu is very intrusive,” she complains after an uncomfortably long time. “I don't need anyone else telling me the taste of things. That is something I happen to excel at.”

You grunt something in reply.

You manage to order without incident, though the yvrain waiter doesn't make eye contact or even really say anything. You get a weird mental nudge to assure you that your order has been taken down correctly, and then the waiter ambles away.

You ordered fried egg. No chickens this far from Earth, but an egg is an egg wherever in the universe you go, so you're not interested in tracing it back to the exact cloaca that produced it. Terezi ordered some sort of large beetles smothered in a thick magenta sauce.

“I enjoy the flavor of strong colors,” she explains, or at least you assume it's an explanation, for all that you understand absolute jack shit out of it.

She apparently enjoys her beetles and her weird un-food-looking sauce, though, and you discover that your egg is delicious, a bit sweet and a bit spicy, and maybe a bit more filling than you expect eggs to be. You both spend the first five minutes just eating.

She stops abruptly at one point, putting down her beetle and drinking half her glass of water, and you wouldn't even take note of this if, in the next moment, she didn't turn towards the window and lick the glass.

Your mind stutters for a bit, trying to process what just happened, and for some reason settles on 'ew, germs'.

“There are quicker ways to die, you know,” you say, your voice surprisingly even. “They seem to keep a clean place, I don't think you'll be catching a strong enough strain of troll Ebola that way.”

She cackles, but doesn't explain her behavior.

“So, Dave,” she says, clasping her hands neatly in front of her, as if sitting at a desk and not a diner table.

A few seconds pass without her continuing.

“Yeah?” you prompt.

“How are you enjoying Traverse so far?”

“S'alright,” you shrug and take a bite of your egg. “Weather's nice.”

Weather's mediocre, in truth. The rains are anemic, the sun is dim. You've never witnessed such middle-of-the-road weather before in your life. The climate on Traverse strikes you as profoundly terrified of commitment.

“Nice enough for now,” Terezi says. “But then the rainy season is going to start, and what are you going to do then? Do you have a good umbrella?”

“Uh... I have an umbrella, yeah?” you reply. You have a telescopic umbrella that Mom insisted you take along with you before you left.

“Interesting!” Terezi remarks, raising an eyebrow. “And weather-appropriate clothing?”

“I have a jacket,” you shrug.

“A jacket will not see you through this planet's rainy season, Dave,” she scoffs. “Do you even have proper shoes?”

“Suppose that by 'proper' you actually mean 'pretty fucking sweet'--”

“But that is not what I mean at all!” she cuts you off. “Dave, I am only looking out for your best interest here. The rainy season is only two perigees away. What are you going to do when it's here, hm? Are you going to rely on Karkat to clothe you? He is not your moirail!”

Two perigees. You don't know the exact conversion to human measurements, but that's at least a few months away. It's a long time away, maybe long after you'll have already left, but...

You've been here long past the time you should have left already. Are you still going to be here by then?

Are you still going to be living on Karkat's couch, curled up and sleeping in the early morning, lounging and kissing in the faint streetlight streaming through the window? An image flashes through your mind, of Karkat's couch feeling cozier, of your possessions strewn around the room, mixed with Karkat's, of the pink telescopic umbrella Mom gave you, hanging on a hook by the door. There isn't a hook there yet, you realize, startled, and the daydream pops like a soap bubble.

“I'm not gonna mooch off the guy, jeez, give me some credit here,” you mumble, feeling your face flush. “I can buy my own damn raincoat.”

Terezi's face brightens in a sharp sharktoothed grin.

“Is that what you're planning to do, then...?”

She trails off strangely, as if her attention is pulled elsewhere. Her nostrils flare as she turns her head towards the window.

You look out, but nothing strange is happening there. People of various species pass by. The buildings on the opposite side of the street have bright, inviting signs and colorful storefronts.

“Finish your egg, Dave,” she says sternly. “I will pay the check.”

You protest that you can very well pay for half, but she informs you that the money will not come from her pocket, but from the generous travel allowance she is given as a Neophyte.

“Not quite a dragon, but it opens almost as many doors,” she says, and then chuckles to herself. She doesn't bring up rainy season again, and instead you spend the rest of the meal talking about weird Alternian video games.

*

Terezi doesn't really explain why she wanted to have breakfast with you.

“Don't look the gift hoofbeast in the mouth, Dave!” she says, and whaps you across the shin with her cane.

“Horse. It's horse when you talk about it in English,” you grit out while trying to pretend that didn't hurt. Haha. Oh wow. You're going to end up needing a cane yourself, and then you'll see how _she_ likes it. “You don't need to mention the hooves.”

“English must have some very self-conscious hoofbeasts then,” Terezi says. “At any rate, you didn't notice anything odd while you were in there, did you?”

“There was something odd to notice?” you ask.

“Was there? I didn't say anything of the sort. I can't help whatever conclusions you draw, Dave. I will see you next week, at the same time. You will be there, of course, because I have already paid for your meal once and you must properly express gratitude by granting me this favor.”

Before you get to say anything else, she climbs in the scuttlebuggy and shuts the door, driving off.

You go back inside, vaguely worried that you accidentally made some sort of faustian bargain without reading the fine print. Or noticing there was a contract at all, for that matter.

Karkat greets you at the door with your vibrating phone and passes it to you like it's burning his hands.

The incoming call is from Rose.

“How do you do, dear brother?” she asks in that smug voice she uses when she's excited about something but trying to play it cool.

“Swear to god, Rose, if this is you telling me you decided to extend your stay again, I'm shooting this phone out of a cannon and all the way back to Earth, and you can explain to Mom why she can't see her two precious little fuck-ups anytime soon.”

“I haven't decided to extend my stay, Dave,” she replies haughtily. “I've decided to make it permanent instead.”

You calmly hand the phone back to Karkat, who looks at you in confusion.

“First order of business, we're going to need a cannon,” you tell him.

“No English,” he says gruffly in reply.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Try it again,” you say, a phrase you've got down pat in Alternian by now.

Karkat's scowl intensifies, but he makes another attempt.

“Wooorgd,” he goes.

“No. Listen. _World_.”

“Worgd.”

“World.”

“Wo... wold?”

“World.”

“Wold.”

“World.”

“Wald.”

“Getting colder.”

Karkat scoffs and falls backwards on the couch.

The both of you somehow ended up sitting on the couch face to face, practicing words you always botch. After Karkat bludgeoned you over the head with guttural clicks for half an hour, you managed to turn it around on him and his inability to pronounce soft Rs.

You grab him by the collar and haul him back up.

“Nope, sorry, not getting out of this so easy,” you say.

Karkat gives you a glare, but settles back in place.

“Now pay attention,” you tell him, and cup his face with both your hands. “Wooorrrrrrld.”

He looks at your lips and mouth the word silently at first.

“Worrrrrrrrr....d.”

“Close.” You slowly say the word again, and he repeats it, still way off.

His face is so cute.

“Try again.”

He has a cute little snub nose. You must have noticed this before now, but at the moment, you're very taken with it. And his lips are gray, but the inside of his mouth is black, so you can see the thin black line of his inner lip, where a human's would be pink.

“You almost got it.”

You're transfixed by the gray of his skin, a color made to seem all the drabber for the fact that you can see the contrast to the rich brown of your fingers against his face, but then you look up at his bright yellow-and-red eyes, and you notice that your faces are really close together.

_Really_ close together.

“Let's try this,” you say, and bring your lips against his. You say the word right into his mouth, his lips opening to follow the motion of yours. But he doesn't make a sound, he just brings up a hand to cup the back of your head, and tips your face slightly to the side, kissing you deeply.

He sighs, but it sounds strangely pleased, and then he's pushing you down and crawling on top of you, and nipping your chin. It makes you laugh briefly, because it still takes you by surprise, no matter how many times Karkat does it.

You place your hands against the sides of his face again and you just look at him. He looks back. There's a palpable air of intimacy when you're like this, and it feels like you'll need him just so you'll be able to breathe for the rest of your life. You don't understand what this is; if it's love, it's scarier than you expected. It's just an overwhelming state of _feeling_ , so much so that it hurts.

He starts purring and kissing your face all over. You let him remove your shades and nuzzle you, and you touch him in return—his face, his hair, his back—not even with any purpose in mind, just because you want to feel him under your hands.

His purr changes in pitch. It's almost imperceptible, but you've got a good ear and a lot of practice distinguishing between all the sounds Karkat can make. You recognize this one, and a wave of heat washes over you. He pushes up your shirt, trails kisses along your abdomen.

When he looks up at you from under his hair, eyes half-lidded and mouth curled in a faint smug smile, you almost come in your pants right then and there.

*

You end up in the bathtub together, which being built according to the needs of so many different alien species, is large enough to accommodate both of you. The water is scalding, but the steam is making you drowsy, so you just sit there, your head lolling back against Karkat's chest as you sit between his legs.

He dips a washcloth into the water and then wrings it over your chest in a slow repetitive motion that does more to soothe than clean.

“Talk to Rose,” Karkat says grumpily.

“No. Not talking to Rose. No,” you reply, choosing to repeat yourself since you can't actually go on a long meandering metaphor detailing exactly how much you are not going to talk to her.

“Do it, assdouche,” Karkat says.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” You sit in silence for a bit, trying to gather up words you know. “Because have nothing to say. She told to me after. Not asked before.”

Karkat snorts.

“She told you still!” he says. “Give your opinion. Change her mind maybe? Want to...? You want to change her mind?”

You mull on this for a bit. Do you want to change her mind? Do you want her to go back home (now or eventually), back to her old life, in the place she knows, doing the same things she's been doing so far?

She's been in Traverse for months. Nothing terrible has happened to her, and nothing terrible has happened _because_ of her. She's been happy. She has someone looking out for her.

If her life carries on like it's been going since she got here, she's going to be happy here.

When you think about it like that, it makes you sound like a douche for wanting her to go back home.

“No,” you say faintly. “No, don't want that.”

Karkat pauses for a moment. You can tell he's thinking deeply, because it's like you can hear little wheels whirring in his head.

“And you?” he asks after a long time. “You stay too?”

“Uh... I...”

You...

*

Your phone rings several times that night, but you've buried it in the couch cushions. There's still a faint buzz, but both you and Karkat pretend you don't notice it. Karkat seems to be immersed in the terrible romcom he's watching—and hell, maybe he really is that into it—whereas you leaf through a terrible community news paper.

Though maybe newspaper is stretching the definition. It's more like a newsletter. Whoever writes this is as alien to the concept of journalistic objectivity as Karkat is to the rolling green hills of Earth.

You peruse it for job offers, though maybe that's a strong word. They're more like polite requests for assistance. You never know what you're going to get at the end of one. You received an entire basket full of purple melons last time, and you think there's still a couple of those rotting away in the fridge, because there's only so many purple melons you can eat before you need to stop and look at the life choices which led up to this point.

The old riggan on the ground floor is requesting help getting rid of mold. You like xir. Xe's a graying old biddy who speaks English with a distinct British accent. Xe gave you a nice quilt the last time you helped xir. Xe never told you xir name, because riggan are a bit standoffish when it comes to those kinds of things, but xe did offer to buy you dinner because xe was there on the day you had your sparring match with Karkat. Apparently offering food to participants in the holiday games is a long held riggan tradition.

Then xe regaled you with tales of xir own sparring matches and numerous victories, and long story short you sort of agreed to participate in the games every year.

You look up at Karkat as you remember this. You made that promise out of politeness. You didn't expect to be here every year to actually do it.

But if you did. Would that be so bad? Growing a little bit older every year, until both you and he have gray in your hair. Do trolls get gray hair? You can't remember. You'll pretend they do for the purpose of this daydream.

You close the paper and get up, walking over to Karkat. You kiss the top of his head.

“Going to visit Rose,” you murmur against his hair. He nods, not taking his eyes off the screen.

*

She looks almost surprised when you turn up at her door.

“Did you lose your phone?” she asks.

You check your pocket and come up empty, and you recall that you left it at home.

“Ah.” Her face lights up. “And here I thought you were avoiding me! Come in.”

You shuffle into the apartment she shares with Tavros. It's clean enough, considering that Rose lives here and picking up after herself is something she avoids with single-minded purpose. It's got three rooms and an open kitchen.

Tavros rises from an armchair, dropping a handful of playing cards face-down on the table in front of him. Belatedly, you notice that his opponent is Terezi.

“Look who I found loitering just outside our doorstep!” Rose declares dramatically, gesturing towards you.

“And here I was betting I'd have to bring him here tied up,” Terezi replies with an exaggerated pout as if she's actually disappointed she didn't get to hogtie you at any point.

“Can I, get you anything?” Tavros asks.

“Nah, I'm cool,” you say, and sit down in an armchair next to Terezi's.

The table is round, and surrounded by five mismatched chairs. Terezi's is an ugly red pleather monstrosity. Yours is beige with little flowers printed all over. Rose is perched on the arm of Tavros's chair.

“So what are the cool kids into these days?” you ask, leaning over to look at Terezi's cards over her shoulder.

“You know Fiduspawn, Dave,” Rose says. “You played against Tavros that one time.”

“You _lost_ against me that one time,” Tavros mumbles, eyes intent on his cards.

You pat Terezi's shoulder.

“You hear that? You hear them mocking my tragic fall in battle? Avenge me, Terezi,” you whisper loudly to her. Terezi cackles.

Rose rolls her eyes, but Tavros shifts a bit in his seat. He holds his cards with both his hands and straightens his back, and you can see echoes of a nerdy awkward pubescent kid in that posture. He must have been picked on a lot, you think, before he grew up into the behemoth he is today, and you feel kind of bad for taking Terezi's side.

The game continues. As far as you can tell, they're equally matched.

“So, Dave,” Rose says conversationally, but the way her hand is clenched on Tavros's shoulder tips you off that she's tense. “What brings you over to our humble adobe?”

“You got some nerve talking about humble when Karkat's apartment could easily be mistaken for a messy cupboard,” you mumble.

“Karkat's apartment wasn't really meant to house more than one person, though,” Tavros points out.

“If size is the problem, you could move to bigger lodgings,” Terezi says.

Rose and Tavros give her strange looks.

“That seems like an inconvenient thing to put Karkat through, considering Dave is going to leave soon anyway,” Rose says.

“Is he now? Dave never mentioned anything of the sort when we were talking about his long-term plans here,” Terezi shrugs.

Tavros and Rose turn to stare at you this time.

“Why, Dave! The nerve of you!” Rose gasps in mock-horror. “You were planning to stay and you didn't even _inform_ me? Me, your darling, precious sister?”

“Oh right, the darling precious sister who tattles to mommy and daddy so she doesn't get in trouble herself?”

“I can hardly help it if they ask about you,” Rose huffs. “Maybe if you logged into Pesterchum once in a while and talked to them, they wouldn't be badgering me for details about how you're doing and when you're going back home.”

“Wait. So, when Hal asked me if I was going to stay here,” you say slowly, “that was because of you?”

“Well, I certainly didn't know the answer to that question when I talked to them,” Rose shrugged. “I still don't know the answer _now_.”

“I don't either!” you hiss, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “It's a big decision! I'm not like you, I can't just decide out of the blue that I want to live at the other end of the galaxy! When am I ever going to see or talk to the rest of the family if I stay here?”

“The family you've been avoiding seeing or talking to, you mean?” Rose replies primly.

You bite the inside of your cheek, struck speechless.

“And what about Karkat?” Rose continues.

Tavros up looks at you, eyes wide, and Terezi's nostrils flare.

“What about Karkat?” You bristle.

“Say you suddenly decide it is your filial duty to return to Earth,” Rose says. “Are you simply going to cut off all contact with Karkat? Try to make a long distance relationship work? Ask him to come with you? What are your intentions, Dave?”

The attention of the whole room is focused on you like a million nosy spotlights trying to get all up in your business.

You slip out of your seat.

“Excuse me,” you say, and walk out the door. Nobody says anything or tries to stop you, but you can feel their eyes on the back of your head.

*

When you arrive home, it's to complete darkness. You turn on the light to discover Karkat sitting on the couch.

“Well, if this is you going through your emo phase, at least I'll know to put eyeliner on my Christmas shopping list.”

Karkat turns to look at you. He's more serious than you ever remember seeing him.

“Dave, sit,” he says, and pats the space next to him.

“Oh god no, I never taught you the phrase 'we need to talk' for this exact reason,” you say, shuffling closer. “You're freaking me out, dude, please, not tonight.”

He frowns, and you expect him to snap at you—No English!—but he just pats that spot again.

“Sit,” he says sedately.

Wouldn't it be just the greatest thing ever if this was the night Karkat decided to break up with you. And you'd have it coming, too, after the way your last conversation ended. Or didn't end. God, you fucked up that one. Why couldn't you have your revelation earlier, just spring it on him, hey, yeah, you're stuck with for basically forever, what a great opportunity for some bath time hanky-panky.

But you sit down. Karkat inhales and straightens his back, placing a hand on your knee.

“You need... to answer... the question,” he says slowly, enunciating every word. “How long are you going to stay here?”

“I don't know,” you blurt out in English, and then correct yourself and repeat the phrase in Alternian.

“Oh,” Karkat says, breathing out. He removes his hand from your knee and looks away.

You huff, or maybe sob, or maybe sigh, but you lean against him and rub your cheek against his shoulder.

“I don't know,” you mumble, “I don't know how long, but I'm staying.”

He flinches.

“Staying?” he repeats, sounding incredulous.

“Yeah. Yeah, you're stuck with me, sorry,” you say, and burst into a fit of laughter. “I should've figured out sooner that if I didn't leave already, it's not going to happen anytime soon. I guess I just assumed that of course I'd go back eventually, because I was clutching those apron strings pretty goddamn hard, but it literally took a spaceship to get me to leave that nest, and flying right back just seems like such a fucking awful decision when I already accidentally found a life here with you.”

He very deliberately takes your face in his hands and kisses you firmly on the lips. You would have stopped talking anyway (eventually), but you appreciate the help.

“Now,” he says, tapping your chin with a finger, “say in Alternian that all.”

You make a face.

“I don't even know half the words for--”

“Say! Alternian! Do it, Dave!”

“Can I at least paraphrase?”

He gives you a stern look, but doesn't say no. You don't think you taught him the word 'paraphrase' yet.

So you lean close, bring your lips to his ear, and say the words in Alternian.

“I love you.”


End file.
